


Where to Find What Once Was in Our Bones

by Thegracefulwillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Psychic Sam, Sam Has Powers, Season 3, bsgc secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegracefulwillow/pseuds/Thegracefulwillow
Summary: So what if Dean doesn't want to be saved, Sam refuses to let the deal happen. And a newfound ability might just help with that... written for the bsgc secret Santa 2016





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for this year's bittersamgirlclub's secret santa and my first fanfic in English (not a native speaker) so please have mercy... My recipient is crazydyslexicnerd and the prompt I chose was "non-demonic psychic powers and Sam", I really hope I did it justice and it's well received! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it :)

“Well, this could have ended badly,” Dean said and winced when he put weight on his leg.  
Sam rushed to support him, pulling Dean's arm over his own shoulders.  
“The thing wouldn't have gotten to me if you hadn't dropped your gun!” Dean continued, obviously in a bad mood from his new injury.   
A hurt Dean was even worse then a tired Dean or a hungover Dean. It wasn't quite as bad as a sick Dean, though. Sam just let him ramble and complain all the way back to the car. The forest ground was uneven and covered in roots and vines which made their awkward three-legged hobbling even more difficult, so Sam thought it better not to waste his breath on fighting. While Dean's complaining was definitely annoying, he was still glad both of them had survived. It had been pure luck he found the dropped gun just in time to shoot the monster before it killed either of them.  
They arrived at the Impala's parking spot and Dean let out a relieved sigh when he saw her dully shining in the moonlight. Even in the dim light he was sickly pale and only barely upright. Still, he started a weak argument on driving himself, which was cut short after a few sentences when Sam put him unceremoniously into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.  
And it was only when they had arrived at their motel room of the week, after Dean collapsed on his bed, after Sam sewed up the gashes in his leg, when he was lying in bed himself and was staring at the dark ceiling, only then did he allow the thought into his head:  
His gun had been slapped out of his hand, it had definitely been lost in the dark woods. He hadn't found it by chance just when Dean was about to be killed. He had summoned it.

For a few days Sam carried this around with him, a constant in the back of his mind that he didn't dare to look at. It seemed impossible and horrible and oh so tempting all at the same time. But there was always Dean and Dad and “If you can't save him, you have to kill him” and a demon with yellow eyes that still haunted his dreams and Dean's deal coming due and –  
As soon as the deal popped into his head, Sam's resolve crumbled. Maybe he would be able to save Dean. Maybe he would be able to fight this. Maybe it wouldn't do anything, but it was worth a try. It had to be.  
Whenever he had a moment to himself, he practiced... Or tried to, at least. With all of Missouri's firm words and Azazel's oily promises, he'd have thought that the whole telekinesis-thing would be easier to him. It was almost disappointing that he wasn't some psychic prodigy. He might have left school, but dammit, it was still felt nice to be good at something.  
As soon as Dean stepped out of their current motel room, Sam would grab a practice paper clip, put it a few inches away and concentrate. Most of the time, nothing happened. When something did happen, it was usually a nosebleed or a hammering headache.   
Sam was kinda glad he didn't get much alone time. Definitely a first for him.  
Slowly, he was getting frustrated. Maybe he didn't actually have powers, maybe it had truly been Azazel who had provided him with it the whole time. Maybe the gun incident had just been coincidence. Before Azazel's death (and his own), he hadn't even had telepathy, only premonitions... Except that one time. The case with Max Miller. He had seen Dean's death and then...  
So this was the second time Dean's life had been in danger and Sam had suddenly been able to move objects. And the second time had been after Azazel.  
Sam really hoped that his powers didn't just activate when Dean's life was in danger. It would make it pretty hard to practice.  
The whole thing gave him lots of questions and no answers at all and he couldn't get it out of his head. He tried to look for similar cases, but all he found on the internet was useless for him. There just wasn't any recorded case of a psychic with demon blood or even the effects of demon blood on people. Most psychics had their own specific powers their entire life, so what was up with him?   
This would probably be the first time he had ever wanted to have a head splitting vision of people dying. It would be weirdly soothing to know he still had the premonitions.  
Man, his life got weirder ever day.  
He was thinking about it constantly which was of course how Dean eventually caught on.  
“Weren't you supposed to do research?”   
Sam had been lost in thought, staring blankly at his computer screen. He blinked, quickly collected himself and tried a charming smile to divert Dean's attention.  
He wasn't surprised when Dean didn't fall for it.  
“Please tell me you were thinking about the case and not anything dirty,” Dean said. “There's a time and place for everything, man.”  
“I wasn't!” Sam protested. “Don't project your issues onto me!”  
“Well, I wouldn't call it an issue,” Dean said.   
“Your dirty mind is definitely an issue and I have to suffer from it,” Sam snapped. He returned his attention to his research, only to find that he had no clue what he had been researching about. This telekinesis thing was getting more problematic every day.  
“Your mood might be better if you'd sleep occasionally,” Dean said and threw Sam a pointed look.  
Sam swallowed. “I do sleep,” he said, trying and failing to sound innocent.  
“Yeah, barely,” Dean scoffed. “We're living on top of each other 24/7, you think I wouldn't notice?”  
“It's nothing,” Sam said. He didn't actually know why he wasn't telling Dean about his potential powers, it was more of a gut instinct. Save him or kill him... It wasn't like Dean would kill him (hopefully), but it wasn't like Sam needed saving, either.  
“You need to stop worrying about the deal,” Dean said suddenly. “We wouldn't be able to change anything about it, anyway.”  
“How do you know if you're not trying?!” The emotional cocktail of hurt and rage and fear rose so quickly in Sam he could barely process it before he was on his feet, his chair toppled over and his hands were trembling.  
Dean didn't even blink. “It's better this way, Sammy. You're only gonna end up knee-deep in dark magic and bodies.”  
“Maybe I won't,” Sam said, his voice tight. “Maybe I'll find a way out of this.”  
“How?” Dean sounded tired and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks either and Sam knew his brother, knew him so well, he knew how afraid Dean really was. “There's no way out.”  
“Just... just stop!” was all Sam could get out between clenched teeth. He struggled for a few seconds to say more and found he didn't have anything left in him. Instead he took a deep breath and ripped the door open.  
“Where're you going?” Dean asked.  
“Out,” Sam growled, before he threw the door closed behind him.  
The spring air was mild, but it still cooled him down a little. Dammit, Dean was his brother and the only true constant in his life right now, why the hell would Dean believe he wouldn't want to save him? Dean knew what it felt like to live on someone else's time, shouldn't he be able to feel for Sam?  
And was it right not to tell Dean about his newly awakened powers that might not even exist?

Sam kept his distance for a few days. He stayed with Dean – he couldn't leave, not with the deal hanging over them – but he kept conversations with Dean to a minimum. That grew a little difficult when Dean dragged them into another case. They worked together as smoothly as usual, tuned to the other's presence and Sam realized with a pang that soon, that would be gone. He hated their situation, hated Dean's nonchalance about the deal, but he couldn't turn back time and he decided to work with the cards he'd been dealt.   
Dean left in the evenings to hang out at the local bars and Sam stayed at their room, trying his hardest to activate his telekinesis. He couldn't let this potential chance at saving Dean get away.   
It was one of those nights alone when Sam finally had a breakthrough. The paper clip might not have flown into his hand but at least it moved, shooting of the table and hitting the opposite wall. And his nose was bleeding again, but it was a success he hadn't dared to hope for.  
Although Sam didn't remember everything from the night he died, he still remembered Ava talking about her newfound powers, how it was like flipping a switch to unlock them. The description seemed pretty accurate to Sam now. This was the first time he had used his powers on purpose, actually called for them. It still took a pathetic number of times to summon the paper clip to his palm, but it was there, the power brimming in the tips of his fingers and it felt right, like it belonged. Like it was supposed to be there.  
Sam still had no clue why it hadn't been there before, but he suspected it had to do with the demon blood in some way. He'd probably never find out, but it didn't bother him. And when Dean came stumbling in, more than a little drunk, Sam didn't feel the resentment and desperation brewing in his stomach like usual.   
For the first time in a long time, he dared to hope.


End file.
